Snow Angels
by unilocular
Summary: In the wake of his loss, Tim learns about the true meaning of friendship. Team friendship, but mostly Tim and Tony. Character studies. Episode tag to 12.10: House Rules.


**Disclaimer : **I own nothing, but the typos.

**Warnings : Rated T for language.  
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**Author's Note :** _This__ story comes as an episode tag for 12.10 "House Rules." I'm still not sure how I felt about the episode overall. But this felt like an appropriate follow-up for me. _

_Trying something new with writing from Tim's point of view. _

_Enjoy and please let me know what you think. _

_-oooooooo-ooooooooo-ooooooooo-_

**4:49pm – Thursday, January 29, 2015 – NCIS Headquarters, Washington, DC –**

"Tony, where are you taking me?" I groan.

"It's a surprise, McSpoilsport," he replies, amusement tingeing his voice.

But there's nothing amusing about this situation. Standing in the NCIS elevator with my partner's hands over my eyes isn't the way I want to spend my evening. All I want is dinner and bed, but instead, I'm dealing with this. Right now, I'm not sure whether I should be excited or terrified.

That's the problem with Tony.

Inappropriate situations tend to bring out the very best – or the very worst – in him. And there's nothing particularly appropriate about being lured away from my desk with the promise of coffee. Instead of caffeine, Tony shoved me into the elevator.

I thought he'd hit the emergency button for a Gibbs-esque meeting. I was so sure he'd give me the same pep talk he has for weeks, ask me again why I'm so sullen – I think the word he used was withdrawn.

But he didn't say a word. He just stepped over and wrapped his hands over my eyes like it was no big deal. I tried to push him away, but Tony threatened me with some Krav Maga technique he learned from Ziva. He could barely pronounce the attack so I doubt it even exists, but I don't want to take my chances. Getting knocked flat on my ass by a man who thinks he's Jackie Chan would be the perfect end to an all-nighter. In fact, it'd be a great way to start another.

The doors ding and Tony leads - pushes - me forward.

"Where are we – "

"Move," he orders.

I take a tentative step out of the elevator. He's close enough for me to feel his hot breath on my neck. When I try to bolt, he yanks me back to tell me there's no escape. If I want out, I have to follow his lead until he loses interest. Even if I don't feel like it.

With an agitated breath, I move forward slowly. Wherever we're headed is going to take forever.

After a few steps, the rough carpet under my shoes is replaced by a smooth patch of granite. There are only two places in the building with that type of floor.

"We're in the garage or the lobby," I announce.

Tony genuinely laughs. "Nice work, McSherlock."

I make a face at the comment, but let it go. As we creep forward, the overpowering scent of what might be hot dogs hangs in the air. I'm fairly certain it isn't Tony. The grease from every pizza he's ever eaten is so deeply embedded in his skin he probably sweats marinara which means...

It must be the security guards' dinner.

"Why are we in the lobby?" I ask.

"Has anyone ever told you that you ask too many questions, McGee?"

I crack a grin. "Only every single one of my sister's boyfriends."

He chuckles. "Do you clean your gun when they come to visit?"

"Nope, Dad does that." I flinch at the memory. "Did that."

Tony lets out a sympathetic grunt as he guides me across the lobby. It's the same reaction he had when he found about Dad. Strong, steady silence…just like Gibbs. While I anticipated it from my boss, I didn't expect that response from my friend. I realized too late I needed something more than I got from them. But then again, it's my fault for not telling them about Dad's death earlier.

After what feels like forever, we arrive at the entrance doors.

Tony gives me a shake. "Open it."

"When you get your hands off my face."

"I'll do it when we're outside," he promises.

We stand there for a few long minutes, waiting for the first one to break. When Tony doesn't move, I fumble blindly for the door handle. It takes a few tries before I manage to open the door. As we pass through the first one, cold air sucks my breath away.

I shiver violently, wishing I grabbed my coat on the way out. Like I could have known Tony would take me on this detour to nowhere.

"Can I go back to work now?" I ask.

But Tony doesn't reply, just forces me towards the next door. When I push it open, the freezing air burns its way into my lungs. I hug my sports coat tighter, but it doesn't help at all. My mind whirls with a plan to escape back to my desk – right after I get that coffee.

As though he reads my mind, Tony hustles me away from the building. I slip on an icy patch, nearly wiping out on the sidewalk. But he yanks me backwards, barely keeping us both upright.

That's the last straw. I've played along for way too long.

"Tony," I growl, "I'm going back."

"Not yet, McImpatient. We're not done."

He finally pulls his hands away from my eyes.

Since I arrived at work yesterday morning, a thick blanket of snow fell across the Navy Yard. Fat, heavy snow flakes still tumble from the sky. The last bits of twilight retreats, sneaking between the trees on their way into the darkness.

"Isn't it beautiful?" Tony breathes.

I pinch the bridge of my nose.

Maybe, it could be. On another day when I've had a full night's sleep and more to eat than Tony's leftover Hawaiian pizza. But right now, it makes me think of the snaking lines of traffic and the unshoveled parking space waiting for me at home.

"I'm going back to work," I grumble.

He grabs my arm. "I don't think so."

As he drags me deeper into the Navy Yard, I don't fight him. The sooner I let him do whatever he wants, the sooner he'll leave me alone. If it's one thing I've learned, it's best to go along with him. No amount of fighting will stop Tony from getting his way.

We're halfway to the employee parking lot when we run into Abby. Dressed in her full goth regalia, she wears a smile like a kid on Christmas.

"I found the best spot in the Navy Yard," she draws.

Tony pecks her cheek. "Nice work, Abs."

When she passes me my coat, I want to kiss her too. But instead, I ask: "What are we doing here?"

"Snow angels," Tony says as though it explains everything.

Anger burns through me before I manage to suppress it. "You drug me away from my report to make snow angels?"

He nods, smiles that shit-eating grin. "Something like that."

I make a face, ready to stalk back to my desk, but Abby grabs my arm. "Timmy, please."

She clasps her hands together, excitement spreading over her features. One glance from Tony promises he'll make my life miserable if I let her down.

With a defeated sigh, I hang my head. "Just one."

Whooping, Abby dives into the spot and Tony claims one close to her. I linger on the sidewalk to watch them. Under the glow of the street lamps, they work their limbs through the snow, laughing and whispering to each other. I feel like an intruder until Tony looks up.

"You coming or what, McGee? This snow isn't getting any warmer."

For the first time in weeks, the hint of a smile pulls at my lips. My shoes crunch through the ankle deep snow, spilling over the edges and soaking my socks. By the time I drop next to Tony, my feet are numb.

But I don't mind as I collapse to the ground to start on my first angel. I haven't done this since…well, Abby made me on the day before Thanksgiving.

Suddenly, something like an air-raid siren erupts near us.

Tony rolls into me, hand reaching for his empty hip. "What the fu – "

"Oh no!" Abby pulls her cell out of her pocket, then scrambles to her feet. "Major Mass Spec just sent up the Scuito-Signal. I gotta go. Sorry I can't stay for the rest of the fun, Timmy. Gibbs'll be in the lab any second and if I'm not there, the world will implode."

Before Tony and I regain our composure, she's half-way across the Navy Yard.

He slumps back against the snow, laughing. "Only Abby."

"Yeah, only Abby." I nod. "Hey, Tony, do you think we should head back too?"

"That depends. Are you having fun yet, McGee?"

"Oh yeah, definitely. The most I've had all week." Making the fastest angel ever, I force a bright smile. "Can I go back to work now?"

Tony laughs again, shakes his head. "Not until you've really enjoyed yourself."

With a groan, I collapse back against the snow. The chill worms its way through my clothes, freezing every inch of my body. But complaining will help Tony's case. So I lie there next to him, letting our even breaths serve as conversation.

Overhead, the twilight melts into inky black. One by one, the stars sneak out of their hiding places. With the snowflakes still swirling around us, I hate to admit he might be right. This is almost beautiful.

Propping himself up, Tony glances over. "Tim? Why didn't you tell us about your dad?"

Even though there's no hint of accusation in his voice, the question hits me like a punch to the chest. Winded, I shrink against the ground. Maybe if I lie here long enough, the snow will bury me and I won't have to explain myself.

The team only found out about Dad on Monday, a month to the day since my family buried him. They asked over and over why I never said anything, but I didn't have a good excuse. Christmas, our holiday vacation, case after case. Each and every reason was so hollow when I said them out loud.

Tony takes my silence as an invitation to continue.

"We can't help you if we don't know what's going on."

I sigh. "I know."

"But you still never did anything. You just focused on work and cut us off completely. No more drinks after work, video games at your place. You stopped asking me to read your next book. I thought it was my fault." But his voice grows more serious than I've heard in years when he adds: "You even skipped out on sexy Skype time with Delilah."

I bolt upright. "How did you – "

"Wheels called me last week to ask what was going on." He chuckles humorlessly. "Like you might have told me something."

Scrubbing my icy hands over my face, I groan loudly.

"You're getting better at keeping secrets from me, Tim. I'm proud of you, -" Tony shakes his head like he's actually disappointed in me " - but I don't like it. At all."

Before I have a chance to defend myself, the crunch of someone's boots against the sidewalk echoes. My chest tightens as the thought of Gibbs coming to dig us out of the snow. But thankfully, a short female figure stops in front of us.

With her hands on her hips, Ellie cracks a crooked grin. "So Abby wasn't lying about the snow angels."

"You say that like's a bad thing," Tony says.

She shakes her head, plops down on a fresh patch of snow. "No way. My brothers and I used to make them all the time. It was the only thing to do when we had to do during that blizzard in '90."

Something that might be nostalgia slides over Tony's face. "Ah, that was good times. My frat brothers and I built a sledding ramp to the neighboring sorority." He sighs, long and low. "Best week of my life."

"I don't want to know," Ellie says, rolling over to look at me. "What about you, McGee? What did you do during the blizzard?"

I tuck my hands behind my head as I lie back down. "My dad was stationed in California. So I didn't know what snow was until I started at MIT."

"White sand beaches and bikinis are better than snow," Tony mutters.

Ellie ignores the comment. "Then you must really be enjoying this."

When I shrug in response, she chucks a snowball at me. It hits me smack in the face, running down my neck in icy rivulets. Coughing, I push myself up. As I sweep the ice from my eyes, I notice a figure just at the edge of the sidewalk.

Dark and looming against the streetlamp, his mere presence ignites panic in my gut. We're so dead.

"Boss?" I yelp.

"Working on a lead down there?" he growls.

Both Tony and Ellie jump like they've been shot. Within seconds, she's on her feet, stamping her attempts at a snow angel flat. Tony just props himself up on his elbows, nods at Gibbs like our field trip isn't important. For someone on the receiving end of Gibbs' glare, he's surprisingly calm.

At least, I can argue Tony abducted me from my desk. If Gibbs actually believes me.

I don't want to think about what will happen if he doesn't.

"Well, I was just trying to…" Ellie's her wide eyes glance to us for help. But Tony lets her squirm, just like he used to do to me. "Since our petty officer was found in a snow bank, we should...we could…the snow, it made sense…I swear."

She wilts under Gibbs' ruthless stare until Tony chuckles.

"We're trying to get into the mindset of our victim, Boss. Under the pile of snow by the side of the road in running clothes." He holds his hands out and wiggles his fingers. "Why was he there?"

Gibbs crosses his arms. "I don't know. You tell me, DiNozzo."

"Either he went for a run and someone ran him over with their car on purpose. Or - " He glances to me and Ellie to fill in the blanks, but rolls his eyes exasperatedly when we don't " – he went for a run, passed out and died. Then he got crushed by a plow truck."

My eyebrow jumps as I look over at Tony.

That theory is completely insane, even for him. But then again, Gibbs had me search through - hack into - the petty officer's medical records before we left. So maybe, just maybe, Gibbs and Tony shared the same outlandish thoughts all along.

"So you three decided to test it?" Gibbs asks.

Tony shrugs. "I figured it would help until Ducky and the Autopsy Gremlin are done. Then we'll know how to proceed."

When Gibbs narrows his eyes at me, I lose my voice. I won't rat Tony out because G-d knows what he'll do to me if I do. As soon as he realizes I won't talk, Gibbs shoots Tony a half-nod.

His gaze finds Ellie again. "Your report done yet, Bishop?"

"Um, no..." When Tony taps her shoulder, she hastily adds: "Not yet, Gibbs. I'm on it."

Without another word, she rushes towards the building.

"Hey, Probie!" Tony yells.

The return of my tired, old nickname makes my eyes roll. But when Bishop turns around, I realize it doesn't belong to me anymore. After all those years of cringing at the name, I can't believe I miss it.

She heads back, her blonde hair whipping in the icy breeze. Even though she stops by Gibbs' side, she can't bring herself to look at him.

"What, Tony?"

"Don't forget the hot chocolates," he orders. "Mini-marshmallows for me."

She makes a face. "You've got to be kidding."

"It's one of your probationary duties."

The skepticism in her eyes deepens. "But I read the handbook and there's nothing in there about – "

"He's serious, El," I interrupt. "They used to make me get coffee all the time. Consider it a rite of passage."

Rolling her eyes, she stamps her foot. "Fine, mini-marshmallows for Tony. What about you, McGee?" When I shake my head, she tentatively turns to Gibbs: "And you…uh, boss?"

He just grunts.

Ellie's mouth gapes as she shoots me a panicked look like a deer in the headlights.

All I have to offer is a helpless shrug.

"I don't know what that means," she says.

When Gibbs grunts again, she darts back to the NCIS building. I bet her mind is racing a thousand miles a minute as she tries to decipher whether our boss is a mini-marshmallow man or not. The wrong choice could be the difference between life and death. Too bad, Tony and I are just as clueless as she is.

"Maybe I should help her." I push to my feet. "You know how hard Swiss Miss can be."

But Tony drags me back into the snow. "Nice try, but we're not done."

"Come on, Tony, I'm freezing. Plus, we need to finish our case and Gibbs is here. We're in serious trouble."

"No, we aren't." When I shoot him a skeptical look, he crosses his heart. "Promise."

"Boss," I start, "Tony – "

"Is helping you, McGee," Gibbs interrupts.

I want to ask what he means, but I'm too afraid to question him. So the three of us wait for a long time in the freezing cold. My clothes are soaking wet and I might freeze to death if I stay here any longer. But for some insane reason, Tony is hell bent on making me stay.

Eventually, Gibbs glances back at the building.

"I better go make sure Bishop doesn't put those damn little marshmallows in my cocoa." He cringes at the thought as he steps away. "McGee, I was sorry to hear about your dad. You're on bereavement leave after this case is done."

My mouth falls open. "But, boss, it's been over a month. I'm fine."

"No, you're not." He looks back at me with something I rarely see: concern.

I jump to my feet. "But you didn't take any time after your dad died."

He cracks a wry grin. "Don't do everything I do, Tim." When I start to protest, he holds up a finger: "One week, then you're back. No arguments, got it?"

I nod, hang my head. "Yes. Thanks, boss."

As he stalks back to the building, I can't help but feel like I'm being punished. I sink back into the snow next to Tony. Even though it's his fault I'm soaking wet and freezing, his presence comforts me. The thought of a week's forced leave rips off the scab from Dad's loss. Raw, fresh pain courses through me, bringing tears to my eyes.

I can't – won't – let Tony see me cry.

"I need to go," I say.

But he isn't even paying attention. Instead, he stares at something in the parking lot.

"Oh thank G-d, you're finally here!" he yells, waving.

He stands, then bolts down the sidewalk. Flecks of packed snow tumble from his suit. Rolling my eyes, I chase the bits of snow still clinging to my own clothes. Most of it has melted and seeped through the fabric into my bones. When a frigid wind rushes past, I hug my damp coat closer as though it might help.

"I'm going back inside!" I shout.

"Tim! Wait!"

Something in his voice stops me dead in my tracks. As I squint at the parking lot, he comes into view with a smaller figure by his side. My heart skips a beat, then jumps into my throat. Despite the darkness and snow, I'd recognize her wheelchair anywhere.

"Delilah," I whisper.

I'm too shocked to move as they draw closer, traveling side-by-side. The snow slows her down, but she never lets anyone push her. When she stops in front of me, I rub my hands over my face.

This has to be some crazy dream.

She grins up at me. "Is that the way you treat a girlfriend you haven't seen in months?"

"I can't believe you're here," I whisper.

I fall to my knees by her chair, cup her sunburned cheeks with my numb fingers. As soon as I kiss her frozen lips, the weight of Dad's death hits me like a ton of bricks. I wish she'd been here with me for the funeral.

"My dad's gone," I hiccup.

Just saying the words makes it real.

"I came as soon as I found out," she whispers, taking my hand. "I wish you'd told me."

"I wanted to, but you had such a hard year. I didn't want to…"

She chases my tears away. "Didn't want to what?"

"After everything that happened, you deserved some good." I press my lips together, search her earnest gaze. "You deserved Christmas with your family, enjoying your life in Dubai. Not coming home to my father's funeral."

Her laugh is so quiet I barely hear it.

"You are my good, Tim. And I'm here for everything that happens to you. Good or bad, as long as I experience it with you." She breaks my gaze to glance over my shoulder. "Just like your friends are too."

I turn back to find Tony, playing on his cell phone. When he notices us staring, he flinches like he wasn't just eavesdropping. Even though Delilah and I both know he was.

He blinks, pretending he's clueless. "What?"

"Just telling Tim how his friends are there for him – " Delilah looks at him like she means business " – right?"

Tony nods, almost threatened. "You bet, Dee. I'm just glad you got here. I was running out of excuses to keep him in the snow."

Her eyebrows jump as she glances between us. "What were you two doing?"

"Snow angels," I choke out.

"Wow, I haven't made one of those since I was a kid." She breathes, then glances down at her wheelchair with a frown. "Guess I won't be making one anytime soon."

"Nice try, Wheels. We're getting you in the snow, too." Tony heads over to the edge of the sidewalk, points to a spot in the snow. "I already got one started for you."

Her face pulls into a broad grin. "What'd you do, Tony?"

"Come over here and see."

Nodding, she smiles at me. "Want to, Tim?"

I rub the last tears away, remind myself life still goes on. It's what Dad would have wanted.

"Let's go," I say.

When I stand up, my hands instinctively reach for the handles of her wheelchair. But she gives herself one good push and I realize what she's telling me. So I fall in step with her, moving as fast as she can manage on the icy sidewalk until we reach Tony.

He wears that same shit-eating grin as he displays a patch of ground like a game show hostess.

"You did that for me, Tony?" Delilah asks, disbelief in her voice.

"Anything for you, Wheels." He squeezes her shoulder. "Just like I'd do anything for Tim. Speaking of, I'm going to finish that report for you, Probster. Enjoy your night, you two. See you next week."

After a lascivious wink and a nudge in my ribs, he walks back towards the NCIS building. I want to say thank you, run after him, and maybe even give him a – very manly – hug. But my eyes are riveted to the snow by my feet and Delilah's wheels. I crouch next to her, run my fingers along the edge of the angel.

"Can you believe what he did?" she asks.

I shake my head at my friend's work. "No, no, I can't."

Just at the edge of the sidewalk lies a half-formed angel with legs, but no wings.


End file.
